The  Street 
of  Precious  Pearls 


by 

Nora  Waln 


NEW  YORK 
THE  WOMANS  PRESS 
1921 


Copyright,  1921,  by 

National  Board  of  Young  Womens  Christian  Associations 
of  the  United  States  of  America 


To  Grace  Coppock,  who  first  encouraged  me  to  go 
into  the  Far  East,  I owe  deep  gratitude. 

From  the  women  of  China  I have  learned  that 
World  Fellowship  is  not  alone  an  intellectual  con- 
cept but  a natural  law  in  accordance  with  which 
the  hearts  of  all  women  throb  to  the  same  rhyth- 
mic beat  of  the  Universe. 

To  the  women  of  America  I dedicate  this  story 
of  the  life  of  my  Chinese  friend  and  teacher:  it  is 
as  accurate  as  she  with  her  small  store  of  English 
words,  and  I with  my  limited  knowledge  of  her 
language  could  make  it. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/streetofprecious00waln_0 


CONTENTS 


I 

Wherein  Yen  Kuei  Ping  turns  off  from  the  Big 
Horse  Street  to  make  purchases  on  the  Street  of 
Precious  Pearls 7 

II 

Wherein  there  is  a wedding  and  Kuei  Ping  be- 
comes a member  of  the  family  of  Chia  . . . 19 

III 

Wherein  there  is  a departure  from  family  cus- 
tom and  Kuei  Ping  goes  with  her  husband  to 
live  in  Peking 31 

IV 

Wherein  a son  is  born  and  there  is  great  rejoic- 
ing   41 

V 

Wherein  shadows  throw  their  length  across  the 
tidy  courtyard 49 

VI 

Wherein  there  is  deepening  sorrow  ....  55 


5 


VII 

Wherein  the  heart  of  a woman  is  occupied  with 
one  desire 61 

VIII 

Wherein  Kuei  Ping  prepares  for  a pilgrimage  . 65 

IX 

Wherein  there  is  patience  and  tenderness  and 
understanding  and  a return  to  a little  home 
village 73 

X 

Wherein  twenty-seven  slow  years  are  added  one 
upon  another 81 

XI 

Wherein  the  narrator  becomes  Kuei  Ping’s  pupil 
and  is  filled  with  wondering  questions  and  is 
witness  to  a dream  come  true  in  its  threefold 
parts 91 


6 


Wherein 

Yen  Kuei 

Ping  turns 

off  from  the 

Big  Horse  Street 

to  make 

purchases 

on  the 

Street  of 

Precious 

Pearls 


URNING  off  from  the  Da  Mou  Lui  or 


the  Big  Horse  Street,  the  name  common 
to  the  main  street  in  Chinese  towns  and  vil- 
lages, there  is  to  be  found,  if  one  seeks  dili- 
gently for  it,  the  Street  of  Precious  Pearls. 
Always  it  is  a side  street.  Often  it  is  so 
narrow  that  two  sedan  chairs  cannot  pass. 
At  those  times  of  the  day  when  the  shadow's 
are  long  there  is  no  golden  sunshine  reflected 
from  the  cobblestones  that  pave  the  street. 
But  I have  found,  for  I like  to  visit  the  little 
shops  on  side  streets,  that  the  more  precious 
jewels  glo\y  with  a warmer  brilliancy  when 
the  day  outside  is  dark. 

It  is  the  street  of  greatest  importance  to 
every  Chinese  girl.  On  it  will  be  bought  her 
dowry  jewels.  Ancient  custom  rules  that  the 
betrothed  bride  shall  convert  the  wrealth  she 
inherits  from  her  father’s  household  into  pre- 
cious stones.  And  so  it  is  here  on  the  Street 
of  Precious  Pearls  that  her  inheritance  is 
spent,  lest  by  bringing  money,  as  such,  into 
her  husband’s  household  she  reflect  upon  the 
ability  of  her  new  family  to  support  her. 

Yen  Kuei  Ping  sat  passively  quiet  as  her 
chair-bearers  turned  into  the  street  at  a low 
spoken  word  from  her  grandmother.  She 
was  third  in  the  procession.  Madame  Yen 
rode  first,  directly  behind  the  house  servant 


9 


who  walked  ahead,  breaking  a way  through 
the  crowded  Big  Horse  Street  and  into  the 
quieter  Street  of  Precious  Pearls,  crying, 
“Lend  light,  lend  light.”  Next  to  Madame 
Yen  came  Kuei  Ping’s  mother,  and  bringing 
up  the  rear  was  a fourth  chair  in  which  was 
carried  a distant  relative,  by  name  Chang 
An,  who  held  a place  in  the  household  a trifle 
higher  than  that  of  a trusted  servant. 

Following  the  swaying  tapestried  box-like 
chairs  that  marked  the  presence  of  her 
mother  and  grandmother,  Kuei  Ping  leaned 
forward  in  her  seat,  peering  through  the  hori- 
zontal aperture  in  front  of  her  with  brighten- 
ing eyes.  The  Street  of  Precious  Pearls  was 
quiet  and  cool.  Moss  clung  to  the  bases  of 
buildings  and  the  grasses  that  had  ventured 
up  through  the  paving  stones  were  worn  away 
only  in  a central  path  and  in  patches  in  front 
of  entrance  ways.  Now  and  then  someone 
came  from  beneath  one  of  the  heavy  curtain- 
like doors  that  closed  a shop,  and  slipped 
along  the  silent  street,  but  the  padded  shoes 
of  the  pedestrian  made  no  noise  on  the  grass- 
covered  stones.  Here  was  a peace  and  quiet 
akin  to  the  hush  of  the  Mission  Church, 
Kuei  Ping  caught  herself  thinking,  and  then 
flushed  at  what  she  thought  her  irreverence 
in  comparing  the  gorgeous  pageantry  of  the 


10 


procession  as  she  saw  it  silhouetted  against 
the  dust-dulled  gold  lacquer  of  the  shops  with 
the  aesthetic  simplicity  of  the  Chapel. 

They  had  traversed  more  than  half  the 
entire  length  of  the  street  when  Madame 
Yen’s  chair  came  to  a stop  before  a shop  with 
rich  filigree  carvings  and  double  entrance 
doors  of  heavy  velvet  with  brass  frames.  At 
the  sound  of  their  approach,  two  attendants 
of  the  door  stepped  forward  and  swung  it 
wide,  that  the  chair-bearers  might  carry  the 
ladies  into  a tiny  inner  courtyard  before  they 
need  dismount,  saying  as  they  bowed,  “Hon- 
orable ladies,  enter  the  humble  shop.”  There- 
upon, the  narrower  inner  curtains  of  the  shop 
itself  were  held  open  and  Madame  Yen  and 
her  relatives,  bowing  low,  returned  the  formal 
greeting  and  passed  within. 

At  the  entry  of  customers,  numerous  clerks 
and  underlings,  so  it  seemed  to  Kuei  Ping, 
swarmed  forward  with  greetings  and  formal 
offerings  of  stools  upon  which  to  sit  and  with 
cups  of  tea  to  drink.  The  head  of  the  shop 
and  his  partners  flicked  their  long-stemmed 
pipes  from  sleepy  lips  and  rose,  as  though 
from  deep  meditation,  struggling  a bit  with 
the  light  that  would  penetrate  into  their  eyes, 
even  in  the  darkened  room,  as  they  bowed, 


11 


offering  the  courtesy  of  “the  miserable  place 
to  the  pleasure  of  their  honorable  guests.” 

The  eldest  among  them  with  his  own  hand 
took  from  an  attendant  each  cup  of  tea  as  it 
was  brought  and  offered  it  with  a low  bow  to 
his  guest.  Kuei  Ping,  lifting  her  gaze  now 
and  then  from  the  floor,  caught  a glint  of  joy 
of  the  coming  bargain  in  the  corners  of  the 
shrewd  old  dealer’s  mouth  and  in  her  grand- 
mother's eyes,  even  in  the  midst  of  courtesy 
and  greeting. 

Rich  jewels  were  brought  forth,  for  Kuei 
Ping’s  own  grandfather  was  a well  known 
silk  merchant  and  the  coming  alliance  with  an 
official  family  was  not  beyond  the  knowledge 
of  Wong  Lui,  dealer  in  jewels.  Madame  Yen 
gave  but  a sweeping  glance  to  the  first  display 
placed  before  her.  Kuei  Ping  had  slipped 
into  the  background,  but  her  mother  and  the 
relative  looked  over  the  jewels  and  then  up 
at  Madame  Yen  as  if  to  agree  that  they  were 
not  worthy  of  attention.  Wong  Lui  held 
various  secret  conferences  with  his  head 
clerk,  and  boys  slipped  away  into  dark  re- 
cesses to  bring  forth  rarer  treasures.  Ma- 
dame Yen  and  her  daughter  preferred  pearls, 
and  from  the  mysterious  caverns  of  the  shop 
they  were  brought.  Exquisite  gems,  each 
wrapped  separately,  were  removed  from 


12 


their  covers  and  glowed  in  a wondrous  heap 
on  the  dark  velvet  cover  of  the  teakwood 
table. 

Kuei  Ping  liked  rich  warm  color  but  she 
liked  it  best  subdued  in  the  luminous  pearls. 
She  was  a favorite  with  her  grandmother 
and  this  preference  was  no  secret  to  Madame 
Yen  who  placed  her  chair  now,  as  the  hour 
grew  on,  that  Kuei  Ping  might  get  the  full 
value  of  the  beauty  of  the  fabulous  heap. 
Carefully,  onebyone,  the  preferred  gemswere 
separated  from  those  of  lesser  beauty  by  the 
two  women.  And  still  at  intervals,  as  though 
he  had  just  awakened  to  some  almost  forgot- 
ten knowledge,  Wong  Lui  would  cease  caress- 
ing his  drooping  moustaches  with  his  slender 
hands  and  wave  a clerk  away  to  bring  even 
rarer  treasure. 

But  all  things  come  to  end  in  time  and 
these  mysterious  errands  grew  farther  and 
farther  apart  and  finally  ceased.  Wong  Lui 
had  placed  his  best  before  them.  Kuei  Ping 
from  under  her  modestly  lowered  lashes 
caught  glimpses  of  bright  eyes  that  glowed 
from  the  darkness  of  the  inner  rooms,  the 
curious  little  clerks  and  underlings  who 
peered  through  the  dividing  parchment, 
eagerly  following  the  tableau  in  the  center  of 
the  shop. 


13 


Not  until  the  selected  heap  was  before  her 
did  Madame  Yen  speak  of  price  and  then  only 
as  a question.  Kuei  Ping  had  seen  her  grand- 
mother bargain  before  and  so  she  scarce  drew 
her  attention  away  from  the  lustrous  heap  of 
jewels  even  to  listen.  Wong  Lui,  too,  was 
seasoned  at  the  game  which  both  dearly  loved 
and  so  with  the  skill  of  chess  players  they 
moved  slowly,  each  toward  his  goal,  each 
carefully  measuring  the  other’s  power  to  yield 
from  his  quoted  price.  At  intervals,  when 
the  conflict  might  have  grown  a trifle  sharp, 
cups  of  tea  were  served. 

Kuei  Ping,  resting  her  eyes  upon  the  pearls 
so  soon  to  be  hers,  drank  deep  draughts  of 
their  beauty.  Impelled  by  their  drawing 
power  she  gathered  a handful  of  them  up  in 
her  soft  pink  palm,  unmindful  of  the  bar- 
gainers but  not  unnoted  by  them.  The  quick 
eyes  of  each  had  counted  the  number  and  the 
face  of  Madame  Yen  had  softened  as  she 
looked  upon  the  girl.  Wong  Lui  had  noted 
that  also  and  put  it  down  in  his  favor  in  the 
game  before  them. 

The  girl,  holding  the  jewels  thus  in  her 
hand  that  she  might  feel  their  nearness,  saw 
them  glow  into  warmer  color  as  she  held 
them,  as  though  her  touch  breathed  life  into 
them.  In  after  years  she  was  to  think  often 


14 


of  the  care  with  which  they  had  been  selected 
and  to  pay  homage  in  memory  to  the  experi- 
ence and  knowledge  which  made  possible  that 
rare  power  of  choice,  for  even  Wong  Lui, 
seasoned  dealer  in  jewels,  had  shown  respect 
for  Madame  Yen’s  judgment. 

With  a suddenness  so  abrupt  as  to  make 
her  feel  she  must  have  jerked  physically,  Kuei 
Ping  was  back  in  memory,  as  she  was  so 
often  these  days,  at  the  little  mission  school 
where  she  had  been  sent  when  she  could  go  no 
farther  in  lessons  with  her  brothers  at  home. 
This  too  had  been  an  indulgence  upon  the 
part  of  her  family,  gained  by  her  nearness  to 
her  grandmother. 

It  was  graduation  day.  This  was  the 
memory  she  conned  over  most  often.  Kuei 
Ping  had  stood  first  in  her  class  and  when  the 
exercises  were  over  she  had  stolen  away  into 
the  garden  to  bid  it  a last  farewell,  with  the 
small  remembrance  reward  that  had  been 
given  to  her  clasped  in  her  hand.  Ever  since 
that  day  Kuei  Ping  had  worn  it  next  her 
heart.  She  could  feel  its  hard  edge  now  as 
she  sat  holding  the  pearls.  In  memory  the 
fragrant  perfume  of  the  la  France  roses  at 
the  end  of  the  walk  drifted  out  to  her  again, 
she  recalled  the  crunching  sound  Miss  Por- 
ter’s stiff  foreign  shoes  had  made  as  she  came 


15 


down  the  path,  and  the  tenseness  of  the  prin- 
cipal’s voice  as  she  had  spoken,  asking  Kuei 
Ping  to  come  and  sit  in  the  arbor  and  talk 
with  her. 

From  the  first  day  Kuei  Ping  entered 
school  she  had  worshipped  the  tall  golden- 
haired American  girl  in  the  shrine  of  her 
heart  as  an  Angel  of  Freedom.  While  they 
sat  in  the  arbor  she  had  held  Kuei  Ping’s 
hand  in  the  foreign  way.  Kuei  Ping  thrilled 
to  the  memory  of  that  touch  more  than  to  the 
glow  of  the  pearls.  Miss  Porter  built  for  the 
girl  who  listened  at  her  side  that  afternoon, 
a dream  bridge  of  words  that  connected  the 
road  of  Kuei  Ping’s  life  with  that  strange 
land  called  the  United  States,  where  men  and 
women  had  equal  opportunity,  and  from 
which  the  Chinese  girl  with  her  brilliant  mind 
trained  to  new  ways  might  return  to  give 
service  to  her  own  country  women.  Kuei 
Ping  had  held  her  breath  lest  she  lose  a word 
while  Miss  Porter  talked,  quiet  at  first,  car- 
ried away  by  the  marvel  of  the  opportunity, 
then  very  still  because  she  knew7  its  impossibil- 
ity. For  at  the  spring  holidays  Madame  Yen 
had  told  her  granddaughter  of  the  plans  for 
her  marriage  and  had  given  her  the  engage- 
ment gifts  from  the  Chia  household  that  had 


16 


been  kept  these  two  years  now,  waiting  until 
she  should  be  finished  with  school. 

Her  family  loved  her.  Kuei  Ping  had 
known  that  from  the  first  moment  she  opened 
her  eyes  and  smiled  into  her  mother’s  face. 
They  awaited  her  return  home  and  her  fulfill- 
ment of  their  plans  for  her.  There  were  ties 
that  bound  her  a part  of  the  whole  which 
made  up  the  unit  of  her  family,  bonds  that 
could  not  be  pushed  aside  with  the  brusque- 
ness that  made  possible  the  spirit  of  freedom 
that  lit  the  eyes  of  the  American  girl.  And 
yet  it  was  this  spirit  of  freedom  and  of  service 
in  the  wider  ways  of  life  to  which  she  had 
built  the  secret  shrine  within  her  heart.  It 
was  a hard  conflict,  but  Kuei  Ping’s  decision 
was  reached  before  she  had  lifted  her  quiet 
eyes  to  thank  Miss  Porter  and  say  that  she 
could  not  go. 

The  latter  had  been  a trifle  curt.  Kuei  Ping 
had  wept  bitter  tears  over  it  since,  because 
she  had  failed  the  person  she  admired  most 
in  all  the  world.  The  utter  futility  of  at- 
tempting to  make  East  and  West  understand 
each  other  had  stilled  her  lips  from  any  shar- 
ing of  her  feeling  about  her  home,  or  any 
repetition  to  her  grandmother  of  the  conver- 
sation in  the  garden.  The  engagement  brace- 
lets in  the  bureau  in  her  mission  school  room 


17 


and  the  silver  honor  medal  beneath  her  dress 
were  each  sacred  things  that  belonged  in 
separate  parts  of  her  life. 

Madame  Yen  reached  over  now  to  Kuei 
Ping  for  the  pearls  she  had  taken  from  the 
table,  that  they  might  be  put  in  the  same  case 
with  the  others.  The  bargain  was  closed. 
Fresh  cups  of  tea  were  brought  forth  and  re- 
fused, Madame  Yen  and  her  relatives  saying 
over  and  over  as  they  were  bowed  out,  “We 
have  squandered  your  valuable  time,”  and 
Wong  Lui  and  his  attendants  begging  them 
not  to  waste  their  breath  in  courtesy  for  his 
humble  shop. 

Outside,  the  chair-bearers,  trained  to  pa- 
tience by  long  hours,  waited. 


18 


Wherein 
there  is  a 
wedding  and 
Kuei  Ping 
becomes  a 
member  of 
the  family 
of  Cilia 


WHEN  Kuei  Ping  was  a child  of  six, 
playing  at  games  with  the  little  cous- 
ins who  dwelt  in  the  Yen  compound,  or  teas- 
ing to  learn  to  read  with  her  brothers,  sooth- 
sayers, upon  examination  of  a document  from 
the  house  of  Chia,  had  found  that  her  destiny 
was  entwined  with  that  of  Chia  Fuh  Tang, 
ten  years  her  senior.  With  care  the  grey  old 
man,  whose  judgment  Madame  Yen  trusted, 
had  taken  the  card  upon  which  were  drafted 
the  eight  characters  indicating  the  year,  the 
month,  the  day,  and  the  hour  at  which  Fuh 
Tang  had  entered  the  world  and,  comparing 
them  wdth  the  similar  characters  of  the  girl, 
had  returned  a favorable  report  of  the  auspi- 
ciousness of  the  union.  With  deliberation 
and  due  patience  he  had  compared  the  com- 
bination of  their  characters  with  each  of  the 
five  elements,  metal,  wood,  water,  fire  and 
earth,  to  make  sure  that  in  the  proposed  mar- 
riage there  wTas  no  destroying  omen  such  as 
the  uniting  of  wood  and  fire.  He  next  dis- 
covered that  the  two  cyclic  animals  that  had 
presided  over  the  birth  of  the  youthful  couple 
were  not  at  variance  with  each  other. 
Thereon  it  was  ascertained  that  the  two 
would  abide  together  in  harmony. 

Later,  the  Imperial  Calendar  being  con- 
sulted as  to  the  black  and  yellow  days  which 


21 


would  govern  the  lives  of  the  two,  a second 
document  was  sent  from  the  house  of  Chia, 
informing  the  family  of  Yen  that  the  four- 
teenth day  of  the  month  had  been  found  to  be 
the  day  most  favorable  to  the  conclusion  of 
an  engagement  and  asking  that,  if  found 
agreeable  to  them,  a return  document,  setting 
the  month,  be  returned.  Fate  had  already 
decided  the  month  as  the  second  of  the  Chi- 
nese calendar  year  by  causing  the  girl  to  be 
born  under  the  sign  of  the  tiger.  The  cul- 
mination of  the  alliance  had  waited  but  the 
year  to  be  set  by  the  contracting  families  as 
the  eighteenth  spring  of  Kuei  Ping’s  life. 

The  month,  corresponding  to  April  on  the 
western  calendar  of  that  year,  came  with  a 
touch  of  summer  on  its  breath.  Soft  rains 
fell  early.  From  the  wind-dried  earth  sprang 
a carpet  of  velvety  green.  By  the  middle  of 
the  month  brown-green  orchids  had  pushed 
out  to  the  light,  azaleas  and  the  wild  wisteria 
were  opening  buds,  the  yellow  mustard  scat- 
tered gold  over  the  country-sides,  and  the 
southeast  wind  was  languid  with  the  sicken- 
ing sweet  perfume  of  the  purple  soi  bean. 

Kuei  Ping,  wearing  the  heavy  wedding  gar- 
ments in  which  she  had  been  dressed,  felt  near 
to  suffocation  in  the  close  room.  Yet  she 
shuddered  as  from  a chill  when  Chang  An, 


22 


having  put  the  finishing  touches  to  the  mar- 
ried way  of  hair-dressing,  placed  the  vanity 
case  before  her,  urging  the  girl  to  teach  her 
own  fingers  the  arrangement. 

The  old  woman  felt  the  shudder  and  the 
tense  strain  of  the  girl’s  body  as  she  fastened 
the  tiny  buttons  of  the  collar  of  Kuei  Ping’s 
dress.  Looking  down  at  her  she  said  ten- 
derly, “Be  not  alarmed,  little  flower  of  our 
hearts.  Thou  needest  have  no  fear.  Look 
but  into  the  mirror  at  thy  beauteous  face  be- 
fore the  veil  is  dropped  over  it.  What  man 
living  could  pass  by  the  fire  of  thy  deep  eyes 
untouched!  Look  now,  as  I hold  the  veil  of 
pearls  before  thy  eyes,  and  see  that  they  out- 
rival the  lustre  of  the  gems.  Even  thy  hands 
are  shaped  like  the  petals  of  the  new  opened 
lotus,  and  thy  grace  is  as  exquisite  as  that  of 
the  wind-swayed  blossom.  Take  the  incense 
burner  and  make  thy  heart  a lake  of  peace 
upon  which  thy  beauty  may  float  with  the 
serenity  of  the  flower  thou  dost  resemble.’’ 

Kuei  Ping,  gazing  deep  into  the  mirror  as 
into  a wondering  dream,  reached  out  her 
hands  for  the  many-wired  burner  Chang  An 
brought  ere  she  left  the  little  bride  alone. 
Slowly,  one  by  one,  the  girl  smoothed  out  the 
twisted  curves  until  the  interlacing  grooves 
were  one  continuous  whole  in  which  the  in- 


23 


cense  burned  before  the  Goddess  of  Mercy 
without  a break. 

The  hours  hung  heavy  upon  her.  Over  the 
door  that  closed  her  from  the  feasting  came 
stray  bits  of  gossip.  She  heard  the  click  of 
ivory  dominoes  as  the  dowagers  gambled  at 
sparrow.  The  plaintive  call  of  stringed  in- 
struments came  to  her  as  from  a great  dis- 
tance. Now  and  then,  as  a minstrel  took  up 
the  refrain,  she  caught  the  words  of  some  old 
love  song,  or  heard  repeated  in  chant  the 
valor  of  a departed  family  hero. 

The  clamor  outside  grew’  greater  and  then 
subsided  into  the  murmur  of  conversation. 
The  one  o’clock  feast  had  passed.  The 
shadows  of  late  afternoon  sank  into  darkness. 
A servant  came  to  light  a taper  beside  her 
mirror.  Chang  An  returned  and  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  toilet.  Her  mother 
W'rapped  the  long  band  of  red  satin  around 
her  head  over  the  new  hair  arrangement 
signifying  that  they  bound  her  to  the  will  of 
the  family  to  which  they  sent  her.  Madame 
Yen  with  loving  fingers  placed  the  inner  veil 
of  red  chiffon  and  then  dropped  over  it  the 
veil  of  pearls  that  had  come  the  day  before 
from  the  bridegroom.  The  long  strip  of  red 
silk  carpet  was  laid  by  servants  that  she  might 
go  to  kneel  before  the  family  altar  and  then 


24 


be  placed  in  the  waiting  sedan  chair  without 
touching  her  feet  to  the  polluting  ground. 

The  time  of  departure  was  near.  The 
rooms  and  courtyards  in  which  she  had  lived 
were  strangely  unfamiliar  with  their  elabo- 
rate decking  in  honor  of  the  event.  Heavily 
veiled  and  her  eyes  lowered,  she  felt  rather 
than  saw  the  crowded  mass  of  her  relatives. 
The  minstrel  took  up  the  wail  of  separation 
and  loss.  She  heard  the  tossing  of  the  four 
cakes  which  were  to  bring  luck  to  her  family, 
and  the  rattle  of  the  sieve  placed  over  her 
wedding  chair  to  ward  off  evil  spirits  as  she 
was  sealed  into  it. 

The  journey  which  she  must  make  in  dark- 
ness began.  Ahead  of  her,  almost  a mile 
long,  the  procession  of  her  attendants  went. 
Sitting  strained  and  still  she  could  hear  the 
clash  and  clang  of  brass  cymbals,  the  shifting 
of  burdens  from  tired  shoulders  at  regular 
intervals,  and  now  and  then,  as  she  strained 
her  eyes,  the  flare  of  waving  torches.  Half 
way  to  the  end  of  the  tiring  journey  the  noise 
increased,  and  she  gathered  that  they  had 
been  met  by  members  of  the  bridegroom’s 
family.  Dull  red  balls  of  light  swung  above 
the  entrance  gates.  Her  chair  was  borne 
through  the  double  rows  of  the  procession 
which  had  preceded  her  and  set  down  in  a 


25 


reception  room.  She  heard  the  murmuring 
words  of  good  omen  uttered  as  she  was 
helped  from  her  cramped  seat  and  out  onto  a 
second  strip  of  red  carpet  that  led  to  the  part 
of  the  compound  that  was  to  be  hers. 

Kuei  Ping  saw  Chia  Fuh  Tang  for  the 
first  time  in  one  swift  stolen  glance  from  be- 
hind her  veil.  He  stood  with  his  back  to  her 
as  she  entered  the  doorway.  In  that  glance 
she  knew  that  he  was  taller  than  her  father, 
that  he  wore  a long  mandarin  garment  with  a 
square  of  heavy  embroidery  in  the  center  of 
the  back,  over  which  a black  queue  hung;  she 
saw  the  flash  of  a jewel  in  the  front  of  his  hat 
as  he  turned  toward  her.  Then  she  must 
lower  her  eyes  to  the  floor  where  his  dark 
slippers  made  a spot  of  contrast  with  the 
bright  carpet. 

He  came  forward  to  meet  her.  Kuei  Ping, 
hidden  beneath  the  concealing  veils,  was  led 
forward  a few  steps  by  her  attendants.  Then, 
as  custom  dictated,  both  sat  for  a few  minutes 
side  by  side.  Kuei  Ping,  still  wrapped  in  the 
long  veil  that  reached  to  the  hem  of  her  wed- 
ding garments,  too  weary  to  stand  alone, 
leaning  upon  Chang  An  and  another  attend- 
ant was  then  led  forth  to  kneel  with  Fuh 
Tang  before  the  family  altar  in  worship  of 
heaven  and  earth  and  to  make  low  obeisance 


26 


before  the  Chia  ancestral  tablets.  Here 
Chang  An  lifted  the  edge  of  her  veil  that  she 
might  drink  with  the  bridegroom  from  a gob- 
let of  wine  ere  she  was  led  back  into  her  room 
to  dress  for  the  wredding  feast. 

Her  tired  nerves  seemed  almost  to  snap  at 
the  continued  twang  of  the  stringed  instru- 
ments. Chang  An  cooled  her  hot  brow  with 
calming  hands  as  she  took  away  the  heavy 
veils  and  helped  to  dress  her  in  the  lighter 
dainty  pink  garments  from  her  trousseau 
chest.  And  Kuei  Ping,  remembering  that 
Madame  Yen  had  told  her  that  Fuh  Tang 
too  had  attended  a foreign  school,  and  the  evi- 
dences of  ill  ease  he  had  shown  in  the  ordeal 
that  had  passed,  wondered  whether  he  knew 
of  the  western  custom  of  personal  choice,  and 
stilled  her  own  trembling  with  the  realization 
that  he  had  not  seen  her  as  yet. 

Fuh  Tang  saw  her  first  thus,  with  tender- 
ness and  something  akin  to  pity  in  her  eyes, 
when  he  came  to  sit  and  wait  for  the  serving 
of  the  feast.  Food  was  placed  before  them 
but  custom  forbade  the  bride  to  eat  or  sleep 
for  three  days.  She  must  sit  with  downcast 
eyes,  her  face  immovable  while  the  feasting 
about  her  went  on,  the  target  of  all  eyes,  the 
subject  of  ribald  jokes.  Long  hours  passed 
again  in  which  she  had  need  of  all  the  pa- 


27 


tience  gained  with  the  little  incense  burner. 
They  left  as  a memory  the  odor  of  heavy 
perfume  that  came  from  hot  rooms,  the  clat- 
ter of  chopsticks  and  bowls,  the  glimmer  of 
many-colored  robes  and  the  glitter  of  jewels 
of  the  men  guests,  strangers  and  relatives, 
who  came  in  an  almost  ceaseless  stream  dur- 
ing that  first  twelve  hours  to  gaze  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  bride.  Their  remarks  burned 
as  a searing  iron  across  her  consciousness. 

Two  more  days  the  feasting  lasted. 
Women  kinsfolk  of  the  family  who  had  not 
met  together  for  many  months,  gossiped  and 
drank  tea,  adding  color  to  the  women’s  side 
of  the  large  compound  with  their  rich  gar- 
ments of  brocade  and  satin.  Some  of  them 
swayed  on  small  bound  feet  with  a “golden 
lily”  glide.  They  went  about  examining  the 
chests  of  wedding  gifts,  commenting  upon  the 
hundred  and  twenty  boxes  filled  with  gar- 
ments and  linens,  discussing  the  charms  put 
here  and  there  to  bring  good  luck. 

In  the  other  side  of  the  vast  dwelling  place 
the  men  drank  wine  and  made  merry,  their 
long-skirted  garments  of  silk  in  seafoam 
green  and  saffron  and  deep  blue,  and  their 
chains  of  amber  and  jade  and  the  settings  of 
diamonds  and  pearls  on  their  hands  and  in 
their  hats  outdoing  the  vivid  glory  of  the 


28 


women’s  dress.  Here  Fuh  Tang  went  at  in- 
tervals to  offer  hospitality  in  food  and  wine, 
and  to  joke  with  his  guests. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  Kuei  Ping 
came  forth  to  find  the  guests  for  the  most 
part  dispersed,  to  worship  at  the  ancestral 
tablets  with  her  husband,  to  make  low  obei- 
sance to  her  honorable  new  mother  and  father 
and  the  elder  relatives,  and  to  show  her 
respect  before  the  household  Kitchen  God. 

Thus  Kuei  Ping  became  an  integral  part 
of  the  family  of  Chia. 


29 


Wherein 
there  is  a 
departure 
from  family 
custom  and 
Kuei  Ping 
goes  with 
her  husband 
to  live 
in  Peking 


MOONLIGHT  on  which  the  white  mag- 
nolia flowrers  floated  as  birds  about  to 
take  wing,  filled  the  courtyard  and  touched  the 
town  with  a magic  of  pale  green  gold.  Kuei 
Ping  could  not  sleep.  She  lay  wide-eyed,  fol- 
lowing the  pattern  that  a moonbeam  made  as 
it  filtered  through  the  parchment  window. 
Unable  to  resist  longer  the  call  of  the  path 
of  light  she  slid  from  her  bed  to  the  floor. 
Cautiously  pulling  about  her  the  long  gar- 
ment that  lay  waiting  for  the  morning,  she 
crept  through  the  door  of  her  pavilion  into 
the  courtyard.  Still  holding  her  slippers  in 
her  hand  she  listened  for  sounds  of  others 
awake.  From  the  rooms  of  her  honorable 
women  relatives  came  only  the  rhythmic 
breathing  of  deep  sleep. 

She  passed  safely  out  of  the  women’s  divi- 
sion of  the  compound,  stealing  through  the 
intricate  lacery  of  courtyards  and  curious- 
shaped gateways,  stopping  to  dabble  her  fin- 
gers in  the  wraters  of  a fountain  and  then,  at  a 
disturbed  quack  from  the  pet  heron  who 
stood  sleeping  with  one  foot  drawn  up  be- 
neath him,  she  sped  carefully  away.  Her 
shadow  mingled  with  that  of  the  flowering 
magnolia  trees  as  she  slipped  from  place  to 
place  like  a long-caged  bird  trying  its  wings 
in  newly  gained  freedom,  stooping  now  over 


33 


the  fragrant  heart  of  a rose,  brushing  gently 
the  stiff  little  potted  evergreens  that  stood  in 
a row  at  the  base  of  the  spirit  screen,  turning 
back  to  feel  the  velvet  of  the  purple  iris,  hold- 
ing up  her  hands  to  let  the  full-blown  wisteria 
petals  flutter  through  them. 

From  over  the  walls  came  a mysterious 
groping  after  expression  from  the  strings  of 
some  blind  wandering  musician.  It  vibrated 
on  the  heart  of  Kuei  Ping,  calling  her  beyond 
the  confines  of  the  compound  she  had  entered 
as  a bride  two  months  earlier.  Square  across 
the  entrance  gateway,  placed  so  that  evil 
spirits  flying  in  to  bring  disaster  would  be 
flung  back,  stood  the  high,  many-colored  spirit 
screen  guarding  the  household,  while  it  slum- 
bered, from  disaster.  Her  hand  still  touch- 
ing the  familiar  potted  trees  on  the  inner  side 
of  the  screen,  Kuei  Ping  crept  around  it.  No 
sound  save  that  of  irregular  snoring  came 
from  the  gatekeeper’s  house.  Her  fingers 
trembled  as  they  sought  for  the  open  link  in 
the  chain  that  held  the  bar  across  the  outer 
gate.  A wild  rose  that  had  clambered  up 
beside  the  gateway  and  dared  to  cross  the  bits 
of  broken  glass  that  made  more  impassable 
the  top  of  the  wall  gave  her  courage.  Noise- 
lessly she  slid  the  bar  and  stood  without  the 
compound. 


34 


How  soft  the  dust  felt  beneath  her  feet  as 
they  touched  it  for  the  first  time.  Pilgrim- 
ages she  had  made  with  her  honorable 
mother-in-law  to  pay  respect  to  the  ancestral 
hall,  to  worship  at  the  temple  of  Buddha,  and 
to  ask  after  the  health  of  Madame  Yen  and 
her  household,  but  it  was  not  fitting  that  the 
new  bride  should  soil  her  feet  upon  the  com- 
mon ground.  Chair-bearers  came  within  the 
courtyard  to  bear  her  forth  upon  those 
journeys. 

Leaning  back  against  the  wall,  Kuei  Ping 
drew  a deep  breath  of  air.  Now  near  and 
now  far  away  the  music  called.  Thither 
along  the  road  to  his  former  place  in  the 
world  of  other  affairs  Fuh  Tang  had  returned 
six  days  after  their  marriage.  Above  her 
head  the  wood-rose  nodded  in  the  breeze. 
Men  went  out  and  beyond.  Women  in  that 
far-away  land  from  which  Miss  Porter  came, 
walked,  too,  in  similar  paths  of  freedom. 

She  looked  up  at  the  venturesome  rose.  It 
wafted  down  fragrant  perfume.  On  her 
questioning  mind  came  a consciousness  of  a 
change  in  the  music — loneliness  and  a vague 
hunger  that  died  away  in  a vibration  of  de- 
spair. There  came  upon  the  heart  of  Kuei 
Ping  an  overpowering  sense  of  walls  that 
stretched  along  the  dusty  hutung,  closing  in 


35 


upon  the  lives  of  uncountable  women.  Even 
the  roots  of  the  wood-rose  held  her  body 
within  the  compound.  With  cold  hands  and 
eyes  blinded  by  tears  she  put  the  bar  back  in 
place.  Her  feet  caught  in  the  skirt  of  her 
long  mandarin  robe  as  she  stumbled  back  into 
her  room. 

The  morning  would  bring  its  round  of 
regular  hours  in  which  she,  the  wife  of  the 
eldest  son,  would  continue  her  lessons  in  fam- 
ily duties,  ready  to  take  the  burden  when  it 
should  fall  from  the  ageing  shoulders  of 
Madame  Chia. 

The  noon  of  the  day  brought  its  difference. 
Kuei  Ping  sat  on  the  folded  rug  at  the  feet  of 
her  new  mother,  putting  tiny  stitches  in  a 
piece  of  satin  embroidery,  when  the  sounds  of 
welcoming  voices  came  from  the  outer  court. 
The  women’s  conversation  about  small  house- 
hold affairs  was  stilled  as  they  heard  the  gate- 
man  repeating  the  name  of  Fuh  Tang,  and 
the  other  servants  take  up  the  cry,  “You 
bring  us  unexpected  joy  by  your  presence, 
most  gracious  master.”  A needle  prick  from 
which  a drop  of  red  blood  stained  Kuei  Ping’s 
embroidery  was  the  only  trace  of  excitement 
the  quiet  little  bride  showed  as  she  rose  to 
greet  him  with  his  mother.  Within  her  there 
fluttered  a hope  that  he  had  come  upon  this 


36 


unexpected  visit  in  answer  to  a call  from  her 
heart.  She  breathed  a prayer  of  thanksgiv- 
ing to  the  Goddess  of  Merciful  Gifts  that  she 
had  been  given  patience  to  perform  the  tasks 
of  the  day  in  quietness,  and  that  she  had 
donned  for  the  afternoon  the  most  becoming 
of  the  wisteria  silk  garments  from  her  trous- 
seau chests.  The  wistful  light  in  her  eyes 
changed  to  one  of  sure  gladness  as  they  met 
his.  She  heard  the  explanation  of  his  coming 
as  put  into  words  to  their  most  gracious 
mother,  but  Kuei  Ping  knew  without  words 
that  he  had  come  because  he  loved  her. 

Throughout  the  week  and  on  into  the  next 
Fuh  Tang  lingered.  The  full  moon  had  be- 
come a waning  quarter,  making  the  lighting 
of  the  many-colored  lanterns  in  the  courtyard 
necessary  to  turn  it  into  a fairy  land  at  twi- 
light time.  A messenger  came  calling  him 
back  to  his  post,  and  Madame  Chia,  fearing 
family  dishonor,  urged  upon  her  son  the 
necessity  for  immediate  departure  as  soon  as 
the  next  day  should  dawn. 

Kuei  Ping,  bringing  back  to  the  gracious 
mother  the  household  keys  with  which  she 
had  been  entrusted  to  dole  out  the  next  day’s 
supplies  to  the  cooks,  heard  the  last  words 
of  Fuh  Tang’s  reproval. 

It  was  in  the  courtyard,  where  the  scat- 


37 


tered  petals  of  the  blown  magnolia  flowers 
were  bruised  under  their  feet  as  they  walked, 
that  Fuh  Tang  told  Kuei  Ping  that  he  must 
return  upon  the  morrow  to  his  waiting  work. 
His  voice  had  trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  Kuei 
Ping,  crushing  consciously  beneath  her  tiny 
embroidered  slippers  the  blossoms  that  had 
seemed  to  dare  to  float  out  to  freedom  and 
then  had  dropped  in  a withered  mass  on  the 
paved  courtyard,  had  begged  him  to  let  her 
go  with  him.  He  had  stayed  his  steps, 
startled  at  the  suggestion.  His  calm  hands 
folded  into  opposite  coat  sleeves,  he  had 
listened  with  ears  that  could  not  believe  they 
heard  aright. 

Fuh  Tang  did  not  depart  when  morning 
came.  The  orders  of  an  Emperor  waited. 
The  elders  of  the  two  august  families  of  Yen 
and  Chia  met  together  to  bring  wisdom  to 
the  minds  of  the  two  young  people  who  con- 
templated so  drastic  a departure  from  family 
custom.  Separately  and  together  they  were 
called  before  the  family  tribunal.  Faithfully 
and  completely  until  now  both  of  them  had 
submitted  to  the  rules  of  tradition;  mechani- 
cally and  faithfully  they  performed  the  small 
duties  given  them  now.  Kuei  Ping  listened 
to  the  daily  words  of  her  grandmother  with 
reverently  bowed  head  and  modestly  lowered 


38 


eyes.  Words  were  futile,  for  no  one  among 
the  women  spoke  to  let  her  know  if  by  chance 
they  understood. 

In  humiliation  Kuei  Ping’s  heart  was 
lighter  than  ever  before.  She  knew  that  Fuh 
Tang  would  not  depart  without  her.  His 
younger  brother  was  dispatched  to  fill  Fuh 
Tang’s  too  long  neglected  orders. 

In  early  autumn  they  left  the  protection 
and  the  guidance  of  their  families  in  disgrace. 
Love  for  each  other,  so  strong  that  it  broke 
down  old  barriers  to  personal  freedom,  set 
them  out  upon  the  road  of  life  a unit  separate 
from  the  complex  life' of  the  compound.  Fuh 
Tang,  appealing  to  the  principal  of  the  school 
he  had  attended,  secured  through  him  a posi- 
tion as  clerk  with  the  British  consul  at  Peking. 

In  the  Tartar  City  just  west  of  the  entrance 
to  the  Forbidden  City  they  found  a small 
dwelling  place. 


39 


Wherein 
a son  is 
born  and 
there  is 

great  rejoicing 


FROM  the  time  of  Kuei  Ping’s  earliest 
memory  she  had  known  that  among  her 
people  the  crown  of  womanhood  was  the 
bearing  of  a son  who  would  perpetuate  the 
name  and  the  virtue  of  his  ancestors.  Feel- 
ing the  first  stirring  of  a new  life  entrusted 
to  her,  she  was  filled  with  joy  in  the  privilege 
that  was  hers,  a joy  that  was  at  times  almost 
overpowered  by  the  fear  that  she  might  fail 
in  fulfillment  of  that  trust.  Daily  she  went  to 
the  temple  of  the  Merciful  One  begging  the 
Goddess  of  One  Hundred  Children  to  grant 
unto  her  a male  child. 

Other  women  waited  in  the  temple  also  for 
their  turn  within  the  prayer  gate,  buying  fag- 
gots of  incense  to  burn  before  the  altar,  drop- 
ping gifts  of  money  and  touching  infants’ 
shoes  to  the  hem  of  the  Goddess’  robe.  At 
times,  in  these  new  days  of  life  in  the  small 
courtyard  where  Fuh  Tang  had  founded  their 
home,  her  thoughts  turned  to  those  earlier 
teachings  in  school,  precepts  from  the  foreign 
Bible.  Kuei  Ping  had  even  whiled  away  idle 
hours,  while  she  waited  for  her  husband’s 
return  from  his  duties  as  clerk,  by  reading  the 
translation  her  teacher  had  given  her.  But 
now  in  her  time  of  greatest  need  she  turned 
back  to  old  familiar  ways  of  worship  through 
which  her  mother  before  her  had  reached 


43 


toward  an  unknown  power,  behind  the  wall 
of  earthly  life. 

Carried  by  the  devious  ways  of  tongue 
and  ear,  by  which  news  can  travel  the  length 
of  an  empire  without  need  of  telephone 
wires,  the  knowledge  of  Kuei  Ping’s  hopes 
reached  the  heart  of  the  Yen  compound. 
One  morning  as  she  walked  with  Fuh  Tang  to 
the  outer  gateway,  Chang  An  stood  request- 
ing admittance  from  thegateman.  She  offered 
no  explanation  of  her  coming  save  that  Ma- 
dame Yen  could  no  longer  give  her  shelter 
and  that  she  had  come  to  them  for  a roof. 
Thus  without  loss  of  face  on  the  part  of  her 
elders  Kuei  Ping  was  given  the  comfort  of 
an  older  woman. 

Under  the  busy  fingers  of  the  two  the  gar- 
ments prepared  for  the  child  grew  to  a need- 
lessly large  heap.  Kuei  Ping,  eager  in  her 
preparation,  made  tiger  caps  and  sewed  bright 
buttons  like  eyes  in  the  toes  of  shoes  that  she 
knew  in  her  thoughtful  moments  were  in  sizes 
large  enough  for  walking  children.  Chang 
An  gave  suggestions  as  to  the  cutting  of  in- 
numerable padded  coats  and  long  hooded 
caps  for  winter,  and  for  the  scanty  garments 
of  bright  red  for  summer.  Together  they 
made  ready  the  cradle  of  peach  wood  that  the 
child  might  be  rocked  safely  into  a long  life. 


44 


Twice  during  the  last  days  of  waiting  Miss 
Porter,  visiting  a friend  in  the  city,  came  to 
call  upon  Kuei  Ping.  Once  the  friend,  a mis- 
sion doctor,  had  accompanied  her.  This  ac- 
counted for  the  stiff  white  foreign  skirt  that 
fluttered  before  her  eyes  as  Kuei  Ping  strug- 
gled back  to  a full  consciousness  of  the  room 
and  its  surroundings. 

No  joy  in  anticipation  had  prepared  the 
young  mother  for  the  wonder  of  the  babe  as 
it  lay  nestled  within  her  arm.  Watching  with 
languid  eyes  the  quick  deft  movements  of  the 
foreign  woman  as  she  made  the  bed  more 
comfortable,  and  beyond  her  the  familiar 
figure  of  Chang  An  lighting  the  tapers  of  the 
Lamp  of  Seven  Wicks  to  warn  disaster  from 
the  new-born  son,  Kuei  Ping  slipped  into  a 
dream  in  which  her  child  grew  up  to  see  both 
East  and  West  and  interpret  the  best  of  each 
to  the  other. 

The  months  that  followed  were  rich  in 
happiness.  Winter  melted  into  spring. 
Flowers  bloomed  in  the  courtyard.  Street 
vendors  came  each  morning  with  great 
bunches  of  long-stemmed  violets.  On  starlit 
evenings  Fuh  Tang  carried  his  little  son  out 
into  the  courtyard  where  they  sat  talking  of 
their  happiness  and  his  future. 

It  was  on  a late  afternoon  when  fruit  hung 


45 


ripe  on  the  hawthorn  trees,  and  soft  autumn 
breezes  swayed  the  leaves  of  the  moonflower 
vine  that  the  sturdy  baby  made  his  first  at- 
tempt to  walk.  Fuh  Tang  and  Kuei  Ping, 
both  leaving  him  to  stand  in  Chang  An’s 
hands,  moved  away,  a double  inducement  for 
him  to  take  his  first  step.  Intent  upon  the 
child  they  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  a guest 
entering  the  courtyard  gate.  Daring  at  last 
to  make  the  venture,  the  baby  toddled  into 
Fuh  Tang’s  outstretched  arms,  and  it  was  not 
until  he  stood  holding  the  child  that  they  per- 
ceived their  aged  father,  Chia  Sung  Lien, 
looking  in  upon  them. 

Fuh  Tang,  going  each  day  to  his  duties  at 
the  office  of  the  British  consul,  brought  back 
newrs  of  the  events  of  the  outside  world,  but 
Kuei  Ping,  her  life  full  to  overflowing  in  her 
love  for  her  husband  and  child  and  occupied 
with  the  tasks  of  making  the  slender  income 
supply  the  daily  needs  of  the  household,  had 
scarce  realized  that  men  outside  were  at  war. 
The  news  that  the  father  bore  them  brought 
close  the  realization.  Fuh  Tang’s  only 
brother,  dispatched  more  than  a year  ago  to 
fill  his  place  in  ignored  orders,  had  fallen  in 
battle  under  General  Tso  in  a vain  attempt' 
to  defend  the  city  of  Pingyang  from  the 
Japanese. 


46 


The  aged  man’s  eyes  followed  hungrily  the 
movements  of  his  sturdy  grandchild,  while 
they  brought  him  a chair  and  tea  and  offered 
the  courtesies  due  to  age  from  youth.  He 
took  from  his  pockets  gifts  to  the  little  son 
who  held  out  his  baby  hands,  unafraid,  to 
receive  them. 

When  the  women  and  child  had  retired 
into  the  house  and  Fuh  Tang  sat  with  his 
father  alone  in  the  gathering  twilight  the  old 
man  spoke  of  the  need  of  a man  child  to 
carry  on  the  traditions  of  the  Chia  household, 
to  give  rest  to  the  departed  dead  and  minister 
to  the  spirits  of  those  who  wandered  in  the 
unknown  beyond.  He  spoke  almost  with  fear 
of  the  sonlessness  of  the  brother  who  had 
gone,  and  he  asked  that  the  little  grandson  be 
returned  to  his  rightful  place  in  the  family 
even  if  his  parents  must  pursue  a foolish  and 
selfish  desire  for  freedom. 

Bowed  with  a heavier  sorrow  than  when  he 
entered,  w'ith  even  the  shadow  of  dread  lurk- 
ing in  his  eyes,  Chia  Sung  Lien  turned  back 
from  his  fruitless  errand.  Youth  with  its 
new  spirit  of  freedom  had  refused  to  place 
upon  the  altar  of  old  tradition  its  most  pre- 
cious gift. 

Fuh  Tang  and  Kuei  Ping,  talking  the  mat- 
ter over  alone,  had  come  to  know  that  each 


47 


believed  that  if  their  ideal  for  their  son  was 
to  be  realized  he  must  live  his  life  in  the  freer 
atmosphere  of  their  own  home. 

Untouched  by  the  near  tragedy  in  the  lives 
of  his  elders,  little  Bo  Te  played  happily  with 
the  pearl  charm  Chang  An  had  hung  from  a 
silver  chain  about  his  neck. 


48 


k 


Wherein 

shadows 

throw 

their 

length 

across 

the  tidy 

courtyard 


FUH  TANG  lay  ill.  The  heaviness  upon 
his  chest  grew  more  and  more.  Kuei 
Ping,  straightening  the  fever-tossed  coverlets, 
knew  that  the  charms  of  the  medical  man  who 
had  been  summoned  had  no  power  to  heal  her 
husband.  A great  fear  laid  hold  of  her — a 
fear  that  drove  her  out  into  the  icy  night 
alone.  No  chair-bearer  came  in  answer  to 
her  frantic  call  and  the  slender  means  of  the 
household  did  not  support  a private  chair. 
Bending  her  head  to  break  the  force  of  the 
wind  she  struggled  somehow  to  the  door  of 
the  mission  doctor  who  had  eased  her  own 
pain  a year  ago.  With  bare  fists  she  pounded 
against  the  gate  for  admittance;  in  staccato 
breaths  she  cried  out  her  need  to  the  sleepy 
gateman. 

The  old  man  who  opened  the  door  told  her 
that  the  doctor  had  been  away  since  early 
evening.  Many  people  were  ill  and  the  for- 
eign doctor  took  no  rest  but  he  would  tell  her 
the  instant  she  returned. 

Kuei  Ping  refused  to  come  inside  and  wait. 
The  lonely  return  through  the  streets  had  no 
terror  for  her  equal  to  the  fear  that  Fuh 
Tang  might  call  for  her  and  find  her  gone 
when  he  wanted  her  most.  The  doctor  came 
into  the  little  courtyard,  weary  from  a long 
day  and  night  without  sleep,  just  as  the  first 


51 


feeble  rays  of  dawn  lit  the  sky.  The  doctor’s 
weariness  seemed  to  drop  from  her  like  her 
outer  garments  as  she  began  work  upon  her 
patient.  Noon-day  showed  a marked  change 
in  his  breathing  and  evening  found  him  sleep- 
ing quietly. 

Knowledge  and  careful  nursing  brought 
Fuh  Tang  back  to  life  again  but  never  again 
did  he  recover  his  old  strength.  A slight 
cough  persisted  long  after  spring  was  with 
them  and  Fuh  Tang  had  returned  to  his 
work,  a cough  that  grew  more  frequent  as 
summer  came  on.  All  about  them  men  and 
women  and  little  children  died  of  such  coughs, 
blinked  out  like  candles  after  five  or  six  years 
of  slow  burning  weariness.  He  did  not  speak 
of  it  to  Kuei  Ping  but  a great  dread  came  over 
him  which  grew  into  a weariness  that  made 
work  almost  impossible.  He  did  not  have  the 
disease,  thus  Fuh  Tang  argued  with  himself, 
his  fatigue  was  but  the  result  of  his  long  ill- 
ness, yet  some  foreboding  kept  him  from 
going  to  a foreign  doctor  to  confirm  his  be- 
lief that  he  did  not  have  it. 

It  was  then  that  he  began  to  smoke  a long- 
stemmed pipe.  Just  a few  whiffs  of  opium 
quieted  his  nerves  and  gave  him  pleasant 
dreamless  sleep  from  which  he  woke  rested 
and  ready  for  work.  Upon  his  salary  the 


52 


daily  food  for  his  family  depended.  In  leav- 
ing the  family  compound  the  two  had  become 
in  reality  a separate  economic  unit.  Fuh 
Tang’s  earnings,  plus  some  money  he  had 
possessed  at  the  time  of  their  taking  the  small 
home  in  Peking,  had  been  sufficient  for  only  a 
very  simple  mode  of  life.  During  his  illness 
his  pay  had  come  regularly.  For  this  Fuh 
Tang  was  grateful,  but  he  grew  anxious  lest 
he  be  unable  to  perform  his  daily  tasks. 

At  first  short  smokes  gave  him  relief  from 
worry.  Just  one  on  the  way  to  work  in  the 
morning  stilled  the  desperate  growing  pain 
in  his  chest,  seemed  even  to  still  his  coughing. 
Then  as  the  months  went  by,  the  amount 
needed  for  relief  grew  greater.  He  came  to 
have  a hunted  desperate  look  in  his  face  if  he 
did  not  get  the  opium  at  the  usual  time.  The 
smoking  made  necessary  his  leaving  home 
earlier  than  formerly  if  he  was  to  keep  from 
Kuei  Ping  the  knowledge  of  his  fear.  He  laid 
the  first  stone  in  the  barrier  which  grew  up 
between  them  when  he  did  not  share  with  her 
his  anxiety.  Kuei  Ping,  carrying  her  second 
child,  was  more  sensitive  than  in  normal  times. 

The  frosts  of  late  autumn  had  turned  to 
dried  husks  the  beauty  of  the  garden.  Was 
it  to  be  so  wfith  their  love  which  had  begun 
with  such  happiness?  Thus  Kuei  Ping  found 


53 


herself  questioning  day  after  day.  Even  little 
Bo  Te  did  not  seem  to  call  unto  himself  as 
much  of  his  father’s  attention  as  formerly, 
yet  he  grew  more  fascinating  every  day,  his 
mother  felt. 

Fuh  Tang,  fighting  the  weariness  that  crept 
further  upon  him,  came  to  leave  the  shelter  of 
his  home  with  a sense  of  relief.  Outside  he 
could  smoke  and  let  down  under  the  strain  of 
pain  and  the  necessity  to  struggle  against  his 
growing  absent-mindedness. 

Thus  the  first  shadows  of  a wall  of  doubt 
separating  Kuei  Ping  and  Fuh  Tang  cast  their 
length  across  the  tidy  courtyard  of  their 
youthful  love. 


54 


IF  herein 
there  is 
deepening 


sorrow 


KUEI  PING’S  second  son  lived  but  a few 
hours.  Chang,  preparing  the  burial 
rites,  sobbing  her  grief  and  disappointment 
even  as  she  summoned  the  soothsayer  to  ex- 
amine the  Imperial  Calendar  for  the  lucky 
day  upon  which  to  place  the  small  body  in  its 
coffin,  felt  utterly  baffled  by  the  quiet  passive- 
ness of  the  mother.  It  was  to  Fuh  Tang  that 
she  must  turn  for  every  decision  and  whom 
she  must  help  to  still  his  grief  while  the  mes- 
sage requesting  burial  in  the  Chia  family 
burial  grounds  was  written  and  dispatched 
by  messenger. 

It  was  Chang  An  who  placed  the  mirror 
above  the  door  of  Kuei  Ping’s  room,  hoping 
that  it  would  change  the  evil  that  had  entered 
the  house  into  real  happiness.  It  was  she  who 
procured  the  blue  papers  to  paste  upon  the 
entrance  gateway  announcing  a death  within 
the  compound.  It  was  she  who  tied  about  the 
neck  of  the  deceased  child  two  wisps  of  cotton 
wool  in  order  that  he  might  bear  away  the 
misfortune  of  the  family  and  save  it  from  a 
too  numerous  brood  of  girl  children. 

Chia  Sung  Lien,  fearing  that  this  may  have 
been  a frustrated  attempt  by  his  younger 
son  to  come  to  the  aid  of  his  family  by  re- 
entering the  world  through  the  body  of  the 
child,  returned  with  the  messenger  to  make 


57 


sure  that  the  soul  be  given  the  most  careful 
attention,  and  that  the  burial  rites  be  at- 
tended with  more  elaboration  than  usual  for 
a baby. 

To  Kuei  Ping  the  weeks  and  months  that 
followed  were  one  long  weary  night-mare. 
By  day  she  haggled  with  tradesman  and  food- 
shop  keepers  over  the  price  of  a bit  of  cloth 
for  garments  for  Bo  Te,  over  shrimp  for 
soup  or  vegetables  and  rice  for  food.  At 
night  she  lay  shivering  under  the  coverlets, 
listening  to  the  restless  tossing  of  her  hus- 
band, kept  awake  by  her  own  thoughts  and 
his  loud  breathing. 

Fuh  Tang  sank  lower  and  lower  into  the 
lethargy  of  opium  smoking  until  one  day  he 
returned  home  to  announce  that  the  British 
consul  had  no  more  work  for  him  that 
season.  He  no  longer  strove  to  hide  the  use 
of  the  drug  from  her,  his  only  desire  was  to 
get  it.  Day  after  day  he  sat  dreaming  his 
colorless  dreams  while  she  struggled  with  the 
problem  of  keeping  a roof  over  their  heads, 
one  by  one  pawning  their  possessions  until 
little  save  the  bare  walls  remained. 

These  walls,  closing  in  upon  her  daily,  be- 
came menacing  shadows  at  night.  Bitterly 
she  condemned  her  own  blindness  in  believing 


58 


that  she  had  hoped  to  find  freedom  in  this 
way. 

Thus  the  poison  of  the  poppy  stilled  into 
pleasantness  the  dreams  of  Fuh  Tang  and 
the  poison  of  selfish  despair  did  its  work 
upon  the  heart  of  Kuei  Ping. 

Meanwhile  the  winds  grew  colder  and 
winter  came  upon  them. 


59 


Wherein 
the  heart 
of  a woman 
is  occupied 
with  one 
desire 


KUEI  PING,  struggling  against  the  sense 
of  walls  that  shut  her  off  from  life  and 
any  understanding  of  it,  spoke  quick  words  of 
rebellion  when  Chang  An  urged  upon  her  a 
more  frequent  attendance  at  the  temple  of 
Buddha.  Borne  in  upon  the  heart  of  Kuei 
Ping  came  a desire  to  pierce  through  and  be- 
yond the  walls  that  menaced  her,  to  force  her 
way  through  the  shadowy  darkness  she  could 
no  longer  tolerate  and  find  the  way  to  the 
light  of  which  Miss  Porter  had  spoken  in 
early  morning  chapel  long  ago. 

In  her  earlier  times  of  need  she  had  in- 
stinctively turned  to  worship  of  the  Merciful 
One,  but  now  she  could  force  her  blinding 
eyes  to  see  nothing  save  the  smirking  smile  on 
the  face  of  the  lacquer  god.  The  routine  of 
prayers  seemed  but  a mockery;  the  burning 
of  incense  faggots  before  the  fat  squatting 
creature  but  added  to  the  ugliness  of  his  al- 
ready over-smoked  and  oily  figure.  Peace 
she  no  longer  brought  upon  herself  in  the 
temple,  because  peace  was  no  longer  what 
she  wanted. 

Out  and  beyond  herself  and  all  of  the 
women  of  her  race  she  wanted  to  go,  out  to 
find  and  serve  that  God  whom  she  had  heard 
called  the  God  of  Life  and  of  Light.  Turn- 
ing through  her  slender  book  of  translations 


63 


from  the  western  Bible  she  marked,  as  she 
read,  all  the  phrases  which  called  her  out  to 
service,  marked  them  until  they  stood  in 
bold  relief  upon  the  pages  overshadowing 
with  their  prominence  all  the  other  words. 

Little  Bo  Te  played  unheeded  at  her  feet. 
Heavier  and  heavier  upon  her  husband  sank 
the  evils  of  consumption,  and  it  was  to  his 
long  slender  pipe  he  turned  feverishly  for 
relief  from  pain  and  doubt. 

Unlit,  the  candles  of  the  house  furnished 
no  glow  for  those  who  dwelt  within. 


64 


Wherein 
Kuei  Ping 
prepares 
for  a 

pilgrimage 


KUEI  PING  made  her  preparations  for 
departure  carefully  and  quietly.  She 
put  into  the  parcel  of  clothing  only  the  barest 
necessities,  leaving  the  warmer  garments  and 
her  dowry  pearls,  which  she  had  still  clung 
to  even  when  everything  else  of  value  had 
been  sacrificed  for  the  use  of  the  others  of 
her  household.  She  made  sure  that  there  was 
a fair  supply  of  rice  in  the  house  and  that 
Chang  An  had  prepared  some  in  readiness 
for  the  morning  meal.  She  wrote  a short 
note  telling  of  her  departure.  Then  she 
steeled  her  heart  against  entering  the  room 
where  her  husband  and  little  son  lay  sleeping. 
It  was  better  thus,  she  told  herself,  that  she 
should  go  away  in  the  night  without  any  fuss 
or  staying  of  steps.  She  knew  that  she  must 
go  if  she  was  to  find  the  truth  for  wrhich  she 
sought,  and  the  desire  to  find  it  was  the  con- 
trolling motive  of  her  life.  What  she  had 
left  of  material  things  would  last  until  the 
news  of  her  departure  reached  the  Chia  com- 
pound. Then  they  would  call  Fuh  Tang  back 
with  eager  voices  to  the  ease  and  plenty  of  his 
family,  and  he  would  take  the  little  son  with 
him.  Kuei  Ping  felt  that  it  was  right  that  he 
should,  but  she  knew  that  if  she  was  to  hold  to 
that  resolution  she  must  not  enter  the  room 
for  one  last  look  at  the  sleeping  boy. 


It  was  night,  the  second  time  in  her  life 
that  she  walked  through  the  city  streets  alone, 
but  she  felt  no  fear.  They  led  her  to  free- 
dom. As  she  passed  from  the  dusty  court- 
yard and  through  innumerable  hutungs  on  the 
outer  side  of  grey  walls,  she  was  filled  with 
a longing  to  tell  the  women  shut  within  those 
walls  of  what  she  had  learned  and  why  she 
went.  Lanterns  hung  at  gateways  threw  out 
feeble  rays  of  light  along  the  narrow  passage- 
ways. Turning  into  Hatamen  Street  she 
found  a sleepy  chair-bearer  who  carried  her 
out  to  one  of  the  farther  city  gates.  There 
she  dismissed  him,  for  she  sought  peace  and 
quiet  in  which  to  prepare  for  her  new  life  of 
service.  Shut  within  the  walls  of  her  home 
she  could  make  no  plans.  A guard  lay  asleep 
at  one  of  the  gateways  leading  to  the  top  of 
the  city  wall.  She  passed  by  him  unnoticed 
and  found  a secluded  spot  on  beyond  an  over- 
looking watch  tower. 

Here  in  the  quiet  above  the  city  she  prayed, 
seeking  for  knowledge.  A gentle  dew 
seemed  to  moisten  the  parched  earth  as  she 
waited.  Then  there  came  the  hush  of  nature 
that  precedes  dawn.  A faint  touch  of  gold 
appeared  in  the  sky  behind  the  purple 
western  hills.  The  gold  was  shot  with  rays 
of  flame  color  that  melted  into  warm  amber 


68 


which  became  softened  around  the  edges  with 
lavender  and  wisteria  shades;  then  in  the 
ever-changing  heavens  amid  the  glory  of 
color  rose  the  sun,  complete  in  its  magnifi- 
cence, giving  light  unto  the  entire  world. 

Kuei  Ping  stilled  her  prayer  to  gaze  in 
wonder  at  the  beauty  of  the  sunrise  and  then 
to  look  down  upon  the  city  as  it  roused  itself 
for  the  tasks  of  the  day.  What  she  saw  were 
but  familiar  things  in  a new  light.  She  saw 
an  old  man  taking  down  the  shutters  from  his 
shop.  She  saw  the  dark  lurking  figures,  the 
petty  thieves  and  marauders  of  the  night, 
slink  away  through  side  alleys,  and  in  their 
places  came  the  familiar  traveling  restaurant 
with  its  bowls  of  steaming  morning  broth. 
She  heard  the  restaurant  carrier’s  voice 
mingled  with  the  call  of  the  hucksters  from 
the  country.  She  heard  the  feeble  cry  of  a 
waking  baby.  Over  the  wall  in  the  compound 
just  below  her  she  watched  a little  lad  patting 
earth  about  a leafless  plant  with  his  two  hands 
while  an  amah  urged  him  in  to  eat  his  morn- 
ing rice. 

Kuei  Ping  turned  to  her  worn  book  to  read 
again  the  words  of  Jesus  as  He  had  told  of 
the  Father  to  all  those  who  had  eyes  to  see 
and  ears  to  hear.  She  read  of  love  and  of 
patience  and  of  understanding  for  the  trials 


69 


of  others  and  of  forgetfulness  of  self.  Pa- 
tience and  quiet  which  she  had  thought  of 
until  now  as  attributes  only  of  Buddha  she  saw 
welded  into  the  personality  of  the  Son  who 
had  come  to  dwell  on  earth  that  those  who 
sought  Him  might  know  more  of  his  Father. 
Her  vague  longing  for  knowledge  and  for 
service  became  a desire  to  live  as  He  had 
lived,  simply  and  lovingly  sharing  whatever 
knowledge  was  trusted  to  her  as  He  had 
shared  with  those  of  his  own  household  and 
the  small  section  of  the  world  where  He  had 
dwelt. 

Below  her  within  the  city  she  sawT  not  only 
dusty  walls  that  shut  out  the  light,  but  lights 
too  which  shone  from  within.  She  came 
down  from  her  morning  of  prayer  no  longer 
crying  out  for  freedom.  Freedom  she  had 
gained  through  forgetfulness  of  self.  She 
was  filled  with  a deep  abiding  sense  of  joy  as 
she  went  back  through  the  awakening  streets 
to  her  own  husband  and  child. 

Bo  Te  had  crawled  down  from  his  bed  and 
sat  in  the  corner  of  the  room  playing  with  the 
broken  bits  of  the  little  ivory  idol  Chang  An 
had  kept  hanging  about  his  neck.  He  reached 
out  eager  hands  to  his  mother  asking  her  to 
fix  it  again.  She  held  him  close,  a song  of 
happiness  throbbing  in  her  heart. 


70 


Fuh  Tang  still  lay  in  the  stupor  of  drugged 
sleep,  but  as  she  leaned  over  him  she  saw  in 
his  blue-lined  face  something  of  the  price  that 
he  had  paid  for  her  freedom  thus  far.  For 
the  first  time  she  saw  the  real  contrast  be- 
tween him  and  the  handsome  gallant  man 
who  had  loved  her  enough  to  break  down  the 
walls  of  custom  for  her  and  sacrifice  his  own 
career  to  earn  her  bread  by  daily  work.  She 
saw  him  not  as  a destroyer  of  her  trust,  but  as 
the  victim  of  circumstances  which  had  been 
too  great  for  both  of  them  until  now.  She 
saw  thus  now  because  she  measured  their  love 
not  by  her  need  of  him,  but  by  his  need  of  her. 
She  read,  too,  in  the  repeated  calls  from  his 
household  for  their  return  more  than  just  the 
desire  to  enforce  old  traditions.  She  felt 
something  of  the  weight  of  the  household 
burdens  upon  the  tired  shoulders  of  Madame 
Chia,  and  the  patience  and  understanding 
which  it  required  to  keep  life  going  on 
smoothly  and  happily  in  a home.  And  she 
knew  that  according  to  custom  it  was  her 
duty,  as  the  wife  of  the  eldest  son  of  the 
family,  to  relieve  Madame  Chia  and  to  be 
ready  to  take  her  place  when  she  should  be 
called  to  the  world  beyond. 

She  saw  her  path  of  service  within  her  own 
small  world  first  in  ministering  to  those  who 


71 


had  need  of  her  and  then  perhaps  out  through 
them  to  others. 

With  an  abiding  peace  in  her  heart  Kuei 
Ping  unfolded  and  put  back  in  the  familiar 
pigskin  chests  the  garments  she  had  prepared 
for  her  pilgrimage. 


72 


Wherein 

there  is 

patience 

and  tenderness 

and  understanding 

and  a 

return  to 

a little 

home  village 


PROCESSION  of  three  sedan  chairs 


made  its  way  along  the  Big  Horse 
Street  of  Kuei  Ping's  home  village.  It  was 
the  time  of  the  Feast  of  Lanterns.  Made  in 
shapes  of  birds,  and  fish  with  great  eyes,  and 
cocks,  and  little  houses  that  spun  round  and 
round  when  they  were  lit,  some  large  and 
some  small,  they  decorated  the  shops  and 
hung  in  front  of  entrance  ways,  or  dangled 
from  sedan  chairs.  Bo  Te,  riding  with  his 
father  in  the  front  of  the  procession,  cried 
out  in  glee  over  each  newT  display  or  shouted 
in  pure  ecstasy  over  the  firing  of  a particu- 
larly loud  bunch  of  firecrackers.  The  street 
was  packed  with  slowT-moving  holiday  makers 
and  with  vendors  who  cried  their  wares  and 
made  sales  in  the  midst  of  traffic,  so  that  Fuh 
Tang  spoke  to  the  chair-bearer  in  the  lead 
asking  him  to  go  through  the  more  quiet 
Street  of  Precious  Pearls  and  connect  wdth 
the  hutung  on  the  opposite  side. 

Kuei  Ping  rode  second  in  the  home-bound 
procession.  Chang  An,  following  behind, 
leaned  forward  and  raised  her  voice  to  re- 
mind her  of  the  day,  which  seemed  so  long 
ago  now,  on  which  they  had  come  here  to  buy 
Kuei  Ping’s  dowry  pearls.  The  street,  too, 
had  its  decking  in  honor  of  the  holiday,  dainty 
lanterns  of  dull  gold  decorated  in  red  hung 


75 


before  Wong  Lui’s  close-shuttered  doorways, 
and  lovely  ones  shaped  like  bright  colored 
autumn  leaves  decorated  a shop  farther  down 
the  street. 

The  chairs  wound  out  of  the  Street  of 
Precious  Pearls  and  on  through  the  streets 
along  which  Kuei  Ping  had  passed  on  her 
wedding  day.  Then  she  had  gone  in  dark- 
ness, wrapped  in  heavy  veils,  toward  a life  of 
unfamiliar  things.  To-day  she  came  through 
the  same  streets  again  to  the  Chia  compound, 
conscious  of  joy  in  her  coming,  filled  with  a 
deep  gladness  that  she  had  a place  there. 
Her  husband  seemed  to  gather  new  strength 
as  they  passed  through  ways  he  had  known 
in  boyhood. 

Chia  Sung  Lien  with  his  household  met 
them  at  the  gateways  to  the  family  dwelling. 
Shining  with  happiness,  the  old  man  bade 
them  welcome  and  begged  them  to  accept  his 
apology  that  the  honorable  mother  could  not 
meet  them  at  the  doorway  too,  but  that  she 
bade  them  come  to  her  pavilion  with  haste 
that  she  might  greet  them.  When  the  formal 
greetings  were  over  Chia  Sung  Lien  took  his 
little  grandson  about,  showing  him  the  won- 
ders of  the  courtyards,  bringing  out  for  his 
delight  the  little  secret  boxes  of  play  treas- 
ures saved  from  his  own  boyhood,  figures 


76 


carved  of  ivory  and  of  ebony,  coins  which  he 
had  saved  from  pocket-money  years  ago, 
letting  the  child  hold  the  pet  birds  upon  their 
perching  sticks,  showing  him  the  purple  velvet 
carp  and  the  silver  and  gold  fish  in  the  fish 
pond,  and  exhibiting  him  to  all  the  old  ser- 
vants of  the  household  and  to  all  the  relatives 
who  came  to  call. 

Joy  and  love  radiated  through  the  vast 
dwelling  and  were  reflected  in  the  passive 
faces  of  all  who  made  their  home  there.  Kuei 
Ping  came  to  realize  almost  as  a revelation 
the  gentle  respect  for  each  other  and  the  care- 
ful consideration  of  the  group  as  a whole 
which  were  absolutely  essential  to  the  life  of 
the  compound.  What  she  had  at  first 
accepted  as  natural,  then  struggled  against 
as  a barrier  to  life,  she  came  now  to  see  in  a 
truer  light  and  to  value  that  which  was  best 
in  it.  She  saw  with  new  eyes  the  patience 
required  upon  the  part  of  Madame  Chia  to 
keep  the  household  running  smoothly  and 
happily.  The  old  woman,  now  no  longer 
able  to  go  about,  directed  affairs  from  her 
great  bed,  dividing  duties  and  favors  among 
the  daughters-in-law  of  the  family  who  again 
divided  them  among  the  other  members  of 
the  house. 

Going  to  visit  within  her  own  girlhood 


77 


dwelling,  Kuei  Ping,  from  out  of  her  brief 
experience,  came  away  again  marvelling  at 
the  smoothness  of  her  grandmother’s  plans, 
and  the  care  with  which  her  mother  had  been 
taught  to  carry  on  the  family  rites  after  Ma- 
dame Yen  should  go  on  to  the  life  beyond. 

Both  families  accepted  with  quiet  respect 
Kuei  Ping’s  feeling  about  the  God  in  whose 
service  she  now  lived.  If  they  felt  her  mis- 
taken they  did  not'  speak  of  it.  The  duties  of 
attendance  upon  the  family  altar  and  the 
dropping  of  daily  rice  before  the  Kitchen  God 
were  continued  by  the  widow  of  the  deceased 
son.  Kuei  Ping  came  in  turn  to  see  beauty 
in  the  regularity  with  which  they  served  as 
they  believed,  and  the  patience  with  which 
they  lived. 

In  the  dimly  lighted  courtyard  under  the 
familiar  magnolia  trees  she  walked  with  Fuh 
Tang.  His  steps  were  slower  now.  On  the 
branches  above  their  heads  hung  lanterns  for 
the  festival,  through  the  latticed  windows  of 
the  rooms  about  the  court  warm  home  lights 
glowed,  from  the  kitchen  court  came  the 
sound  of  servants  chattering  as  they  finished 
the  tasks  of  the  day,  then  above  the  other 
noises  rose  the  shrill  voice  of  their  son.  They 
stayed  their  steps  to  listen.  He  was  telling 
the  other  children  of  the  compound  about  the 


78 


• courtyard  in  which  he  had  lived  with  Father 
and  Mother  and  Chang  An  and  an  old  gate- 
man  all  by  himself,  telling  them  about  the 
big  city  that  is  Peking.  And  of  the  wondrous 
procession  which  he  had  once  seen  there 
when  Father  had  lifted  him  upon  the  wall 
that  he  might  get  a far-away  glimpse  of  the 
Emperor  with  lots  and  lots  of  banners  and 
men  going  with  him.  They  heard  him  say 
that  when  he  grew  up  he  was  going  to  be  an 
Emperor  and  ride  along  a golden  road  at  the 
head  of  a big  procession.  They  heard  him 
shout  that  he  would  if  he  wanted  to,  when 
the  other  children  mocked  his  dream  with  its 
impossibility.  They  heard  Chang  An  bear 
him  away  to  bed. 

Fuh  Tang’s  eyes  twinkled  with  humor  as  he 
looked  down  at  Kuei  Ping.  She  laughed  back. 
The  barrier  that  had  seemed  to  separate 
them  was  down.  True,  the  walls  of  the  com- 
pound that  had  pressed  in  upon  their  earlier 
freedom  were  about  them,  but  Kuei  Ping  saw 
them  now  only  as  encircling  walls  of  stone 
and  mortar. 


79 


Wherein 
twenty-seven 
slow  years 
are  added 
one  upon 
another 


HE  years  that  followed  were  but  the 


melting  together  of  the  pearls  of  Kuei 
Ping’s  life.  They  held  the  gems  of  joy  and 
of  sorrow.  She  took  up  again  the  task  of 
learning  from  Madame  Chia  the  ways  of 
household  management,  observing  as  care- 
fully as  possible  the  honorable  mother’s 
wishes,  coming  to  love  her  for  her  patience 
and  her  ability.  She  went  often  during  the 
remaining  days  of  Madame  Yen’s  life  to  the 
bedside,  sometimes  reading  to  her  grand- 
mother from  the  Book  of  Life  she  had  re- 
ceived from  the  West,  sometimes  listening 
quietly  as  the  old  lady  told  her  bits  of  wisdom 
she  had  learned  from  her  own  living. 

The  second  of  the  new  years  within  the 
compound  gave  to  Kuei  Ping  a baby  girl. 
Fuh  Tang,  growing  steadily  weaker,  bright- 
ened with  the  coming  of  the  gentle  little  child. 
Kuei  Ping  watched  him  as  he  played  with  the 
baby  and  let  a hope  grow  in  her  heart  that  he 
would  be  well  again.  The  entire  household 
came  to  share  that  hope.  A year  passed  in 
which  each  of  the  days  was  a glorious  promise 
of  more. 

Then  the  end  came  suddenly  in  a short 
spasm  of  suffering.  When  it  was  over  Kuei 
Ping  could  not  feel  that  Fuh  Tang  was 


83 


finished  with  life,  but  that  he  had  passed  on 
where  there  was  no  more  of  earthly  suffering. 

The  long  days  that  followed  bore  their 
pain  of  loneliness.  The  sleeves  of  his  gar- 
ments hung  so  empty  and  lay  so  still  as  she 
folded  them  away.  Bo  Te  cried  piteously  for 
the  return  of  his  father.  Stilling  his  cries  and 
lulling  to  sleep  the  little  daughter,  Kuei  Ping 
felt  herself  to  blame  that  she  had  wanted 
freedom  and  perhaps  had  bought  it  with  Fuh 
Tang's  life.  Then  there  came  over  her  a 
great  thankfulness  for  what  he  had  given  her 
— the  right  to  come  and  go  as  she  chose 
through  the  compound  door,  two  children  to 
guide  in  their  wanderings  beyond  it,  and  a 
love  that  seemed  nearer  now  than  it  had  since 
those  days  when  the  weariness  had  first  begun 
to  come  upon  him. 

Her  days  w?ere  different  from  those  of  the 
women  whose  homes  joined  hers  along  the 
hutung  only  in  that  she  had  greater  personal 
freedom  and  that  she  sought  to  live  by  the 
pattern  of  the  life  of  Christ.  The  duties  w'ere 
the  same  round  of  daily  household  tasks. 
Time  and  time  again  she  found  it  hard  to  live 
as  near  like  the  Master  in  kindliness  and  love 
as  the  women  wThom  she  knewT  who  still  wor- 
shipped in  the  old  familiar  ways.  But  as  her 
daughter  grewr  older  she  was  tenfold  thank- 


84 


ful  for  the  little  she  had  learned  of  Christian 
faith  and  of  the  place  it  gave  to  women. 

While  Kuei  Ping’s  children  were  small  she 
taught  them,  gathering  about  her  each  morn- 
ing, as  her  uncle  had  done  before  her,  all  the 
children  of  the  compound.  She  followed  in 
her  lesson  plans  the  same  teaching  of  nature 
from  the  plants  in  the  garden,  the  same  be- 
ginning of  five  written  characters  from  the 
old  classics  each  day,  but  to  the  worn  hook  of 
Rites  she  added  the  parables  from  the  book 
of  Christ.  A dream  grew  then, — to  found  a 
home  school  in  which  all  the  children  of  the 
neighborhood  who  would,  might  come  and 
learn  not  the  western  way  of  life,  but  the 
home  way  enlightened  by  the  teachings  of 
Jesus. 

Almost  miraculously  she  and  her  little  vil- 
lage passed  untouched  through  the  Boxer  re- 
bellion. Perhaps  it  was  their  smallness  that 
saved  them  from  the  destroying  hand  of  the 
fanatically-crazed  men  who  sought  to  save 
their  country  as  the  center  of  the  universe, 
complete  in  itself,  and  to  drive  out  all  other 
influences.  Kuei  Ping  likes  to  think  of  it  as 
a modern  miracle. 

But  the  fall  of  the  Manchus  and  the  com- 
ing  of  a Republic  so  cut  down  her  means  that 
the  little  school  had  to  be  pushed  back  again 


85 


into  the  realm  of  dreams  after  it  had  grown 
to  a reality  with  twenty  day  students.  One 
entire  side  of  the  home  had  been  used  for  the 
plan.  Now  only  a few  rooms  of  the  com- 
pound were  Kuei  Ping’s  even  for  dwelling 
quarters,  for  other  Chia  relatives  came  seek- 
ing shelter.  Their  official  incomes  shaved  to 
a mere  pittance,  the  fatty  places  in  which  they 
had  squeezed  more  than  twice  their  earnings 
taken  awray,  the  piteous  flock  did  not  know' 
what  else  to  do. 

It  was  then  that  Kuei  Ping  faced  the  prob- 
lem not  of  dividing  what  she  had  with  others 
but  of  earning  for  her  own  children  their 
livelihood  and  of  preparing  them  to  fill  the 
place  in  life  w'hich  she  had  so  blithely  planned 
for  them.  Again  her  thoughts  turned  to  the 
West  w'here  women  knew  how  to  do  things 
with  which  to  earn  money.  Bo  Te,  now 
called  by  his  school  name  Kwan  Wa,  begged 
to  give  up  his  education  and  to  seek  for  work. 
He  had  only  two  more  years  of  study  before 
the  completion  of  his  chosen  course,  and  as  he 
had  been  offered  the  opportunity  of  a scholar- 
ship she  refused  to  consider  the  suggestion. 

It  was  then  that  she  began  to  teach  for- 
eigners Chinese.  Miss  Porter,  to  whom  she 
went  with  her  problem,  sent  her  the  first  two 
pupils.  She  found  two  rooms  in  a section  of 


86 


a courtyard  near  enough  to  the  mission  school 
for  her  daughter  to  attend  classes  with  other 
girls  of  her  own  age.  The  expenses  of  her 
life  were  small,  her  group  of  private  pupils 
grew  larger  and  as  she  came  to  earn  even  a 
little  more  than  she  needed,  this  she  added  to 
a tiny  growing  heap  of  savings.  Bit  by  bit  she 
revived  again  the  hope  that  when  her  son  had 
finished  his  education  she  would  build  her 
school.  As  a part  of  this  growing  plan  she 
held  as  capital  the  string  of  pearls  bought  so 
long  ago.  The  jewels,  treasured  as  they  had 
been  through  each  period  of  vicissitude  in  her 
life,  had  come  to  have  an  intrinsic  beauty 
which  strengthened  her  desire  to  use  them 
where  they  would  luminate  the  lives  of 
others. 

The  affairs  of  government  rocked  above 
her  head.  She  was  conscious  of  them  but 
they  did  not  shake  her  determination  to  se- 
cure the  title  to  a part  of  the  old  home  where 
her  maternal  grandmother  had  spent  her  life, 
to  be  used  for  her  school. 

Then  her  little  daughter  fell  ill  of  fever. 
Long  months  of  nursing  made  her  better  but 
the  foreign  doctor  urged  the  seashore  and 
Kuei  Ping  again  delayed  her  school  plans,  and 
took  from  her  savings. 

Kwan  Wa’s  marriage  and  an  opportunity 


87 


to  begin  the  school  came  in  the  same  year. 
His  work  for  the  year  took  him  to  Muk- 
den and  his  salary  was  sufficient  to  make 
her  earnings  unnecessary  for  the  family 
needs. 

He,  too,  shared  her  plan  for  the  home 
school  and  widened  that  dream  to  a plan 
that  they  should  build  near  it  a church  for 
the  worship  of  the  Christian  God  whom  they 
sought  to  follow. 

It  was  a joyous  day  when  Chia  Kuei  Ping 
at  last  saw  the  dream  again  a reality.  No 
new  buildings  were  built.  The  old  compound 
in  which  her  mother  had  lived  before  she  was 
married  was  large  enough  for  a part  to  be 
used  as  a dwelling  and  a part  for  classes. 
Each  overlapped  the  other  so  that  they  were 
one — a home  where  education  and  living  are 
one  and  the  same. 

The  plan  grew  more  rapidly  than  she  could 
well  manage  alone.  Then  she  discovered  a 
man  and  his  wife,  childless,  followers  too  of 
this  new  religion  from  the  West  but  members 
of  another  of  its  man-made  branches,  who 
wished  to  help.  They  came  to  her  to  add  to 
her  teaching  staff,  giving  their  time  and  their 
small  income  to  the  project. 

Again  as  time  passed  and  the  word  of  the 
school  and  its  teachings  spread,  she  found 


88 


that  her  doors  must  be  widened  and  her 
pocketbook  fattened  to  make  possible  the 
needed  expenditures.  It  was  then  that  she 
returned  to  the  task  of  teaching  foreigners  to 
speak  Chinese,  riding  the  twenty  long  miles 
to  and  from  her  home  twice  a week  to  the 
city  of  Peking. 

A small  inheritance  came  from  her  father’s 
family  and  this  was  laid  aside  as  the  begin- 
ning of  the  church  she  dreamed  of  building, 
where  in  a place  set  apart  those  who  wished 
to  enter  might  find  a quiet  place  for  com- 
munion with  God.  Into  this  building  she  put 
her  dowry  pearls,  at  last. 

On  her  fiftieth  birthday  the  people  of  her 
village  laid  the  corner  stone  of  the  new  church 
and  even  those  who  followed  still  the  ways 
of  worship  of  their  fathers  lent  their  hands 
to  the  building. 


89 


Wherein  the 

narrator 

becomes 

Kuei  Ping’ s pupil 
and  is 
filled  with 
wondering  questions 
and  is  witness 
to  a dream 
come  true 
in  its 

threefold  parts 


HE  key  to  new  treasure  is  often  found 


in  places  unexpectedly  near.  It  was 
midforenoon  of  a day  in  early  spring.  I ap- 
proached the  stuffy  cubby  hole,  in  which  my 
private  teacher  waited,  with  lagging  steps, 
struggling  with  the  temptation  to  be  finished 
with  school  for  the  day.  On  Hatamen 
Street  a fortune  teller  squatted,  reading  fates 
with  his  magic  paraphernalia;  outside  of 
Chen  Men  an  old  man  in  a lantern  had 
promised  to  teach  me  to  paint  on  parchment; 
there  was  a temple  bazaar  on  at  Lung  Fa  Fsu 
— a dozen  different  allurements  called.  Re- 
luctantly I tapped  upon  the  door  several 
minutes  late. 

A woman  older  than  my  former  teacher 
bade  me  enter.  It  is  the  custom  in  the  school 
where  I study  Mandarin,  or  official  Chinese, 
to  change  instructors  often  lest  one  copy  too 
accurately  mannerisms  in  intonation.  Per- 
haps had  it  not  been  spring,  or  had  I not  been 
late  we  would  have  conned  over  lessons  for 
weeks  and  gone  no  deeper  behind  the  veil  of 
passive  expression  on  either  face,  each  of  us 
busy  with  her  own  thoughts  while  we  droned 
over  Chinese  proverbs.  As  it  was  I had  seen 
the  official  looking  document  laid  upon  the 
table  and  the  light  in  Chia  Kuei  Ping’s  eyes 
that  told  better  than  words  the  story  of  a long 


93 


hoped  for  dream  suddenly  come  true.  Per- 
haps she  felt  the  need  in  mine.  I count  it 
among  the  most  precious  treasures  of  mv  life 
that  she  did  not  pass  me  by  with  only  a drill- 
ing on  Chinese  proverbs. 

Proverbs  are  good,  but  she  gave  me  much 
more.  The  document  she  translated  was  the 
appointment  of  her  son  to  go  to  study  railway 
transportation  for  three  years  in  America, 
England  and  the  continent  of  Europe.  While 
she  talked,  I who  could  understand  only  a few 
of  her  words,  caught  something  of  what  that 
meant  to  her  and  to  her  people.  Through 
her  eyes  I saw  burdens  lifted  from  the  necks 
of  millions  of  overladen  men  and  women  who 
with  their  bodies  now  make  the  largest  part 
of  the  transportation  service  of  her  country. 
She  was  not  blinded  to  the  long  years  before 
her  son's  dream  of  an  interlacing  series  of 
freight  trains  should  take  their  place;  but  her 
dream  had  been  fulfilled  in  his  opportunity. 

The  days  that  followed  were  filled  with 
deep  joy  for  me.  In  the  atmosphere  of  her 
own  home  Kuei  Ping  let  me  know  her  daugh- 
ter and  her  four  grandchildren.  Nestled  at 
the  foot  of  the  western  hills,  where  seventeen 
generations  of  her  mother's  family  have 
dwelt,  she  let  me  sit  at  her  feet  and  listen  to 
life  as  it  was  lived  about  her.  She  did  not 


94 


still  my  eager  questions,  but  she  shared  with 
me  what  she  had  learned  from  fifty-five  years 
of  life,  teaching  as  simply  and  as  eagerly  as 
she  taught  the  pupils  of  her  own  school. 

Ancient  trees  mark  cool  spots  of  deep 
green  on  the  bare  cathedral-like  glory  of 
western  hills  that  overlook  her  village.  They 
shelter  the  ancient  temples  in  which  her  fore- 
fathers and  her  neighbors  have  worshipped 
for  many  generations.  Some  are  falling  into 
decay,  but  all  have  been  built  with  infinite 
care  by  the  hand  of  man.  In  the  quiet  of 
early  morning  I have  listened  with  Chia  Kuei 
Ping  to  the  chant  of  services  in  the  Llama 
temple,  to  make  which  men  carried  pure 
white  marble  all  the  way  from  India  that 
they  might  have  a fitting  dwelling  place  for 
their  gods.  I have  walked  with  her  beneath 
the  peaceful  shade  of  wide-spreading  trees 
that  stretch  their  branches  over  the  roof  of 
a temple  where  men  and  women  seek  through 
worship  of  Buddha  to  bring  blessedness  to 
themselves  and  their  families.  She  has  led 
me  beneath  the  counting  board  whose  legend 
reads  “As  you  live  so  shall  the  evils  be 
marked  against  you,”  through  the  noisy  mart 
of  a Taoist  temple  where  seekers  after  truth 
please  their  gods  by  avoiding  evil. 

The  mountains  overlook,  and  the  temples 


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surround,  her  little  school  and  church,  the 
former  but  a part  of  her  ancient  family  dwell- 
ing, the  latter  new  like  her  religion.  The  trees 
that  surround  it  are  but  slender  saplings,  little 
more  than  sprouting  roots.  The  simple  struc- 
ture of  the  building  has  no  architectural 
beauty  to  compare  with  the  ancient  temples 
on  the  hillside.  I wonder  just  a little  at  her 
daring  to  place  it  there.  Then  from  within 
her  dwelling  comes  the  sound  of  childish 
voices  singing — the  children  who  are  being 
taught  what  she  has  learned  of  life  while  she 
goes  just  a little  ahead,  listening  with  the 
eager  heart  of  youth  for  the  voice  of  the 
Father  who  gave  his  Son  that  those  who  seek 
might  learn  of  Him.  Her  school  is  filled  to 
overflowing  with  the  youth  of  her  village. 

Parents,  too  long  bound  by  old  tradition 
to  learn  to  w.alk  in  new  ways,  covet  for  their 
children  the  luminous  light  that  shines  in  the 
eyes  of  Chia  Kuei  Ping. 


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